


merc with a heart of gold is a bit too romantic, isn't it?

by edgaristheoneinthehole



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Multi, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 00:25:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4413770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgaristheoneinthehole/pseuds/edgaristheoneinthehole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>but ryan had always been a bit of a soppy asshole.</p><p>based on <a href="http://ryanthepowerbottomguy.tumblr.com/post/124884652688">this post</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	merc with a heart of gold is a bit too romantic, isn't it?

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted on tumblr [here](http://blackkristin.tumblr.com/post/124924358030)

Geoff didn’t bring up new initiates to the crew a lot. Well, not to the  _whole_ crew anyway, Caleb  _had_  to be informed of the new guys to give them their missions, but the rest almost  _never_ learned about them. New meat tended to die early on and Geoff didn’t find it important for the rest to be conscious of how many died in their crew (not to mention how many had to be  _put_  down). They might be  _cold-blooded killers_  but even that amount might make them nervous. A nervous killer wanting  _out_  was never a thing Geoff wanted to be mixed with.

So, it was a surprise when Geoff brought up Vagabond one afternoon, saying, “So, assholes, we have a new merc working for us part-time.” It wasn’t a new position, they’d worked with many mercenaries, some who’d even joined the crew full-time (Ray, who’d eventually left, nostalgic for a time when he’d worked alone; Michael, who’d joined with the former but liked the crew life too much to join him in leaving), but it  _was_ a surprise, Geoff rarely  _let_  mercs help, much less enough to bring them up to the whole crew.

Jack looked up from her fast-food dish first, curious and wary in the way Jack always was, “They have a name?”

To anyone not in the criminal world -- good luck finding someone like that in Los Santos -- it would sound like, well, how it sounded. But FAKE was, in fact, entangled in the criminal world of Los Santos and Geoff understood what she was asking.  _Are they powerful, popular, enough to have earned a name for themself?_

“Vagabond,” he answered and wasn’t surprised when she nodded, calm in the way Michael next to her wasn’t. Jack had worked with Geoff back when they still worked for the Original Five, back when that crew still existed, she didn’t  _get_  surprised at name drops anymore.

Michael coughed, eyes watering, and Geoff stared at him, waiting for the younger to stop. Jack had the common courtesy to hit his back, which either helped or made Michael feel better -- he would have yelled at everyone for not helping otherwise -- as he just continued eating calmly once it was over. Shit like that was why Geoff liked him best.

Gavin hummed from his seat next to Geoff, intrigued, and Geoff was glad that Gavin didn’t get excited at the notion of new initiates. Gavin getting excited was a sure way for Geoff to develop a headache and he’d rather  _not_ , honestly. “That’s the bloke with the high kill count, innit?”

Jack snorted, shaking her head, clearly not willing to deal with Gavin’s shit today. (But when was she ever?) “So do we.”

Michael nodded at that, a proud glint in his eyes, and Geoff wondered when in his life that’d stopped scaring him. He didn’t think he’d been like this as a kid, running around with Gus and Burnie. He blamed Joel, it was usually Joel’s fault.

Gavin moved his hands in large arcs, trying to convey his words in gestures, as words never felt big enough, and Geoff closed his eyes, already anticipating the headache he’d get the moment Gavin started screeching. “We’re all right and all,” he tried explaining to Michael, “but--”

Michael shook his head, the same sort of defensive protectiveness that had him yelling when non-FAKE members insulted Ray rearing its head, “But nothing. We’re fucking great, man.”

Jack nodded wisely from beside him and Gavin let the argument drop, getting distracted by the TV, which was playing some sort of music video. Geoff knew that in a few minutes, he’d speak up, annoyed at the unflattering camera angles, but he found himself not disliking the idea. In fact, he felt right at home. (The feeling stopped once Gavin did, in fact, start complaining about the video, but Geoff took all the peace he could get at the moment.)

 

* * *

 

The Vagabond showed up to their next meeting and Geoff was still not quite over how creepy he was. Not a single word spoken, black skull mask on, wearing a leather jacket in July -- Geoff was half-certain he guy was a robot. If he was, at least he was a robot good at his job so Geoff didn’t really care. Plus, Caleb wouldn’t let a robot into his ranks. Probably. Maybe. Geoff  _did_  make fun of the guy a lot.

The meeting wasn’t one of the bigger ones, mostly because Geoff never did like gambling, showing his whole hand in one move. And, really, he wasn’t about to introduce _Kerry_  to anyone in the crew on their first day. They would almost certainly  _quit_.

So it was just him, Jack, Michael, Gavin and the Vagabond. Well, considering the guy didn’t  _speak_ , it was really mostly just the usual crew. Geoff wondered if he should brush up on his ASL. So far the mercenary hadn’t signed anything and just nodded, shook his head or pointed when asked questions but Geoff could see how a language barrier could form and he wasn’t about to let that fly. Not in his crew.

About midway into the planning of the heist (and Geoff truly did miss Ray at times like this, forcing Michael to take up the position of sniper left Geoff with a huge hole in his up-close-and-personal part of the crew, which was why he needed to even  _use_  mercenaries), Jack stood up, stretching, and looked around the table, asking, “Any of you want something to knock you out-cold?”

The Vagabond startled, though Geoff couldn’t tell if it was because of the question or because he’d been actually concentrating on the heist (Geoff had never  _seen_  anyone who cared about how a heist went, the crew just wanted wanton destruction, not really caring about the cash until it was running low, which led them to take jobs that weren’t fun, the  _boring_  jobs that gave them  _millions_ more than their usual).

Geoff shrugged, “Whiskey?”

Michael’s answer of, “Nah, just Red Bull,” was met with an enthusiastic nod from Gavin. Live together, stay sober together, Geoff guessed. Weak.

As Jack turned towards the Vagabond, Geoff wondered if it was going to be the deciding moment, if the merc would show if he was mute or not. After a short pause, in which Geoff did hold his breath, as pathetic as that sounded (life had been too boring recently, okay?), the man shook his head. Geoff let out a breath.

“Diet Coke would be nice though.”

Gavin’s head snapped towards the mercenary, a plethora of emotions playing across his face and moved across the table with the speed Geoff always forgot he had, forgot that Gavin’d been a spy long before being a gang member.

Geoff, for the smallest of moments, mourned for the map and expensive table, they’d never get the blood stains out of either of them, goddamn it.  _Of course_  he’d know the Vagabond and  _of course_  the guy had slighted him somehow. Geoff just wondered  _whose_  blood he’d have to clean out. It’d be the worst team up against the Vagabond in the guy’s life, Geoff thought, but he might survive for a while, even if he wouldn't survive past the room. The thought was almost comforting, that Lindsay would undoubtedly get rid of him, even if it happened because he got rid of her source of income.

But, well, none of that happened. Geoff wondered if he was too pessimistic for life or if life decided to play a trick on him.

Instead, Gavin was across the table, ripping off the Vagabond’s mask, revealing the face paint below (what the  _fuck_ ) and Geoff thought the face was smiling (that wasn’t creepy  _at all_ , oh my god), but everything stopped making sense once Gavin kissed the guy ( _what the fuck_ ).

Geoff glanced at the still-standing Jack, who had a hand on the handgun hidden below her skirt (Geoff winced and was really glad he actually  _had_  a brain-to-mouth filter that prevented him from possibly being where the gun's next bullet winded up. Maybe Gavin needed to start taking notes), but blinking, clearly surprised as Geoff was, and at Michael, whose mouth was wide open and Geoff felt better about his own shock.

After a few seconds of just staring at the mercenary and his crew member making out, Geoff cleared his throat, but wasn’t really surprised when they didn’t stop. No one fucking ever listened to him. Fucking bullshit.

Thankfully, they stopped a few moments later anyways, though they didn’t turn towards the rest of the crew in the room. Fucking rude.

“Rye,” Gavin said and Geoff was surprised to note the smile in his voice (he couldn’t see expressions as Gavin’s back was still to him). He sounded incredibly fond and happy in a way Geoff hadn’t heard from him, even all the times he’d mentioned his boyfriend (ah, what was that guy’s  _name_...).

“Why didn’t you say you were visiting, you silly sausage?” Gavin continued, making the Vagabond smile a very fond and ( _oh dear_ ) soppy smile.

“I wanted to surprise you at work, dear,” he declared, like Gavin didn’t work for one of the most influential gangs of Los Santos and he wasn’t a mercenary known for being merciless. Shit on his asshole, Geoff didn’t know how this was his life.

Jack sighed, clearly giving up on understanding Gavin once again, and moved towards the fridge in the back, which housed all sorts of drinks Geoff currently wanted to drown in.

Michael finally closed his mouth, bringing out his phone -- probably going to text Lindsay, Kerry and Ray -- and was lost to the world for at least twenty minutes, Geoff knew from experience. It was a miracle he didn’t get lost in texting Ray during a fucking job.

Jack walked back, placing bourbon instead of whiskey in front of Geoff --  _thank you_ , Jack -- and one Red Bull on the middle of the table, likely to see which of the two would notice first and start a fight, Jack took pleasures in the small things in life, and said, loudly enough for both of the lovebirds to notice her, “We don’t have diet Coke.”

The Vagabond’s face dimmed, like some part of his life became  _less_  at the absence of  _diet Coke_. Geoff found him fucking weird.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, Lindsay arrived, a little to make certain what Michael said was true, mostly to laugh at their ignorance. “You didn’t know Gavin’s boyfriend was Ryan?”

Michael gestured at the couple, who were currently discussing with Geoff about the job Ryan came to the meeting for, Michael couldn’t even remember it anymore. Jack was nowhere to be seen and Michael wondered if she’d left with her Australian girlfriend for lunch or if she just didn’t want to deal with any of them. Either was likely.

“I didn’t know he was a  _criminal_ ,” he emphasised, “much less  _well-known_  in it. I thought he was, like, an IT guy!”

Lindsay nodded, not even bothering to remind him that everyone in Los Santos was a criminal in some way, “He is.”

“What.”

“An IT guy. Well, used to be. Like Geoff.”

Michael squinted at her. “Geoff worked for IT?”

Lindsay shook her head, giving up.

 

* * *

 

Ryan didn’t often take jobs with Ray Narvaez Jr., not out of any real malice or hesitation, but because Ray happened to rarely work in Los Santos if he could help it. Ryan had always thought it was because he didn’t want to talk to his old crew, but Gavin told him it was probably just his old habits picking up, not wanting to stay in one location too long.

Having met Michael Jones, Ryan thought both of those were wrong (well, at least not  _completely_  the truth). Ryan  _knew_  bittersweet memories and old flames.

But, whatever, what he thought didn’t matter because he was  _never_  going to bring it up. They were barely friends, he wasn’t going to bring personal, painful shit like that up.

“I met your old crew the other day,” Ryan said as Ray lined up his first shot, one that was going to be a distraction Ryan needed to slip in and steal a statue smaller than his hand and worth more than his favourite car.

Ray paused, not exactly freezing but still wary, Ryan appreciated that about him, “Yeah?”

Ryan nodded, the movement meant to buy him some time to get rid of the automatic smile that’d formed at the thought of his boyfriend, continuing with a, “They’re an odd bunch.”

Ray sighed softly, a nostalgic sound, “Yeah.”

Ryan waited a few moments, knowing the question that was going to follow because he knew  _love_. “How’s Michael doing?”

“Yelling at Gavin.”

Ray laughed, the most carefree sound Ryan had ever heard him make, “Yeah. Yeah, he would.”

Ray took the shot.


End file.
